CHAPTER 551: HE HAS A NEW WAY OF FIGHTING

’I can’t believe he just went straight ahead and said that to Lady Moonstone,’ Mabel thought as she and Liam stepped into the training hall, the echo of Mystica’s mischievous grin still fresh and vivid in her mind. The door had barely closed behind the Queen and her companion before Mabel felt the weight of that look—sharp, playful, and promising future torment.

She released an inward sigh, resigned to her fate. ’I’m never going to have a moment’s peace with that woman around. She’ll probably dedicate herself to teasing me every chance she gets... and all because of a sixteen-year-old boy.’

Her eyes drifted to Liam, who walked a few steps ahead, calm and silent as usual. ’Setting that aside, he really isn’t backing down from this. Not even a little.’ Mabel studied the back of his head, her expression hidden behind the mask. ’He’s actually planning to confront the King of Crescent himself just to make sure his use of dark magic isn’t shackled. That’s not just bold... that’s outright fearless.’

Her gaze softened as it lingered on him. ’That kind of defiance... it’s strangely attractive.’ The thought startled her, and she snapped herself out of it immediately. ’Alright, Mabel, enough. Get your act together and act like the professional you are.’

By then Liam had already stopped at the center of the training hall. He turned toward her, summoning his twin daggers with a faint shimmer of dark myst wrapping around the blades.

"My aim is to gauge how much power my body can currently handle," he said, voice steady, eyes cold and focused. "There’s a chance I’ll have to go all out if I want to test my limits. Are you alright with that?"

Mabel blinked at him, the faintest hint of surprise tugging at her expression before she scoffed lightly behind her mask. "Is that supposed to be a joke?" she retorted, her tone slipping into something teasing. "Go all out if you must. It benefits both of us if you push yourself. And don’t bother worrying about me. Powerful as you are, you going all out isn’t going to faze me."

Liam gave a subtle nod, accepting her words without argument. "True enough. You’re a High-Tier Seven-star, and I’m only a High-Tier Five-star. There’s definitely a gap."

"Glad you’re aware," Mabel said as she loosened her stance, water myst flowing across her form like a second skin, smooth and fluid. "Now then... shall we begin?"

Liam lowered himself into his own stance, left dagger turned in a reverse grip and coated in dark myst while the right burned with a controlled fire myst. "Ladies first," he murmured under his breath—

and in the very next instant, both of them blurred out of sight, meeting in the center of the hall with a thunderous clash that rumbled through the stone flooring.

’Let’s see just how well this new fighting style holds up against an actual opponent.’

***

After a long exchange of blows that shook every corner of the training hall, Liam’s spar with Mabel finally came to its end. The aftermath lay scattered around them like the remnants of a small battlefield. The stone walls were marked with deep cracks running in jagged lines, the floor dented and rippled from the force of their movements, and even the ceiling bore the imprint of their clash. Wisps of smoke curled lazily out of some of the more recent fractures, drifting upward before fading away.

But slowly, the hall began to recover. The enchanted system embedded into its structure hummed to life, and the damaged surfaces started stitching themselves back together inch by inch as the room’s original form gradually returned.

In the midst of all this reconstruction, Mabel stood at the center, her posture firm despite the state she was in. Several tears ran across her uniform, exposing skin marred with shallow wounds where blood seeped in thin trails. Her hair, once neatly tied into a ponytail, hung in messy strands that framed her face, stuck to her skin with sweat. Each breath she took was deep and deliberate as she steadied herself, her right hand still gripping her dark-bladed sword with water myst flickering faintly around the edges.

After a moment, she exhaled slowly and eased into stillness. She removed her mask, slid her sword back into its sheath behind her, and summoned gentle waves of water myst to wash over her injuries, knitting her skin back together as she assessed the outcome of their spar.

’This is... really something,’ she thought, eyeing the hall with a mixture of disbelief and reluctant admiration. ’To think he pushed me past fifty percent even though his overall output isn’t much different from what it was before the war.’

Her gaze drifted across the hall until it landed on Liam. He was seated at the far end, slumped against the wall as if gravity had claimed him entirely. The wall behind him bore spiderweb cracks radiating outward from where his body had collided with it. Although he had gone unnervingly still, Mabel could sense the rhythm of his breathing—steady enough to assure her he wasn’t unconscious or harmed beyond exhaustion.

With her wounds mended, she began walking toward him at a calm pace, though her thoughts churned with intensity. ’His myst may not have increased significantly yet... but his combat approach has.’

She replayed the battle in her mind as she approached. She had sparred with Liam many times before and was accustomed to the deliberate way he fought. Every movement always carried intention. Whether a feint, a rush, or an evasive maneuver, Liam’s actions were woven from layers of purpose. He always had a plan—always had a hidden angle waiting to be revealed at the most devastating moment. That tactical mindset was, in her eyes, his greatest weapon.

His ability to analyze a battle as it unfolded and adapt instantly was something that made him exceptional—far beyond the level expected of someone his age. Mabel herself had been caught in countless of his carefully orchestrated traps, and through those experiences, she had learned how to stay a step ahead of him, using her years of combat to counter his developing yet sharp instincts.

But everything had begun to shift since he woke from his six-month slumber.

Liam fought differently now. During their clashes, he frequently oscillated between two completely contrasting styles. One moment he would be calculated, precise, and tactical—just as he had always been. But then, without warning, he would transition into something else entirely. A fighting pattern that lacked deliberate strategy, one driven almost purely by instinct. His body moved like it had a mind of its own, reacting in ways his conscious self likely hadn’t planned.

It was chaotic. Raw. Unpredictable.

And when he combined both those approaches—his razor-sharp strategy and this newly-emerged instinctive fluidity—he produced sequences of attacks that had almost no discernible pattern, catching her off guard repeatedly.

Mabel had noticed strange hints of this new style during their recent physical-only spars, but she had brushed it off as her overanalyzing things. Yet after this fight, witnessing him integrate it fully with myst and weaponry, she could no longer deny it.

Liam Hunter had found a new way of fighting—one that, if perfected, would make him even more dangerous, even harder to read, and far more unpredictable than he had ever been before.

Reaching him at last, Mabel allowed a small, amused smirk to pull at the corner of her lips as she studied the boy slumped against the damaged wall. "Sorry for going beyond what we agreed on," she said, her tone light despite the ruined state of the hall and of him. "Looks like I’ll have to send you to the infirmary."

She bent slightly, preparing to lift him, but his voice stopped her before she could touch him.

"Please don’t." Liam’s words came out unsteady, catching her completely off guard.

"I thought you were out cold," she said, startled as she straightened and met his half-lidded gaze.

With a low groan, Liam shifted, leaning back more fully against the battered wall. As he did, the injury he’d been hiding became clear—the blood smeared across his forehead and trailing down the side of his face, now stark against his pallor.

"Nope," he murmured at last. "I just didn’t feel like moving."

Mabel stood before him, silently assessing every slow, careful motion he made. It didn’t take much to tell there were other injuries besides the visible ones. "Anything I should know about?" she asked, keeping her voice calm.

Liam inhaled shallowly, bracing himself before answering. "A couple of broken ribs... and probably a concussion, I guess." He said it casually, as though describing mild inconveniences. His gaze flicked upward to her face, noting the absence of her mask for the first time.

Mabel let out a soft, controlled sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose, her patience thinning but not breaking. "I apologize for going overboard," she said quietly. She lowered herself closer, placing her gloved hand against his chest. A faint purple sigil flared to life beneath her palm, blooming across his sternum in a steady glow. "I should get you to the infirmary."

"Yeah, you should," Liam replied with a deliberately exaggerated tone, "since you’re the reason I look like this."

The twitch at the corner of her eye was immediate, followed by a reluctant smirk tugging at her lips.

She rose gracefully to her full height, and behind her a circular portal blossomed open, swirling with soft, rippling myst. "Let’s get going then," she said, turning to step inside.

The moment she turned her back, Liam felt his body lift off the floor, carried effortlessly by her magic. The unexpected sensation pulled a startled breath from him as he levitated forward, drawn after her through the portal.

Together, they vanished into the shimmering gateway, leaving the training hall to repair itself in the silence behind them.